


drive

by gymthree



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friend groups, Gift, High School, Hooking up, Jealousy, M/M, Popularity, prompt, they hook up with other people to make each other jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 14:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gymthree/pseuds/gymthree
Summary: All we do is driveAll we do is think about the feelings that we hideAll we do is sit in silence waiting for a signSick and full of prideAll we do is driveKeith and Shiro hook up with other people to make each other jealous, hiding how they really feel. Eventually, Keith gets sick of it.





	drive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zerbien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerbien/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAY. You're amazing, gorgeous, clever, talented, and so good? You're the best. Have the best rest of day, I hope this is the content you want to read. Love ya <3

Keith stopped and stared at his image in the mirror, analysing every inch. He was wearing his new denim jacket - in theory, it’s not new, since he got it from a thrift shop, so it was all faded and destroyed -, and he loved the way it looked, whitish blue against his fair skin and dark hair. He heard honking and laughed, knowing Allura was by the door.

He ran, combat boots thumping the wooden floor, and left, not bothering to say goodbye to his foster parents. He didn’t have a strong bond with them, they were just another family that was going to get rid of him sooner or later. He never created bonds with any of the families he stayed with.

Allura was wearing his favourite sunglasses; they were sort of cat shaped, resembling something catty, and the frame was clear, transparent, see-through. She was fixing her hair, looking at the rear-view mirror; it was white and, today, curly and frizzy. There was some lilac to it, like a white that bordered the other colour, and Keith heard her say as he got closer, “I think I’m going to change to pink.”

“What?” He asked, sliding into the front seat of the car. Pidge was sitting behind him, reading a book, face covered by they big, round glasses. They nodded to him, in acknowledgement.

“My hair. Y’know, it’s light lilac, right? I think I’m going to change to baby pink.”

Allura was gorgeous. Her eyes were a beautiful combination of colours you don’t usually see in someone’s eyes, her skin was dark, not too much but still, and her hair was incredible. It was always white with some other colour, yellow, blue, lilac, pink, and always different. Curly, wavy, straight, short, long, medium length…

“You should go for it,” Keith sighed, and Pidge chuckled.  _ What are you laughing at?,  _ he felt like asking, for a second. But he didn’t, because he loved his best friend’s laugh.

“I don’t know.” Allura dug her foot into the gas pedal, and the car started speeding, fastly sliding down the street. The A/C blew cold air into Keith’s face and, groaning, he turned it the other way, towards the window.

Keith looked out the window and felt his lungs closing up. He hated that place. He hated his neighbourhood, his  _ current  _ neighbourhood. Everything was too much of the same, the people were assholes with money that didn’t know what it was like to go through a problem worse than losing your smartphone’s case. They didn’t know what it was like to be kicked out of schools and houses and constantly be having a hard time  _ living. _

Swinging his shoulders, he threw his backpack onto his lap and reached for his pack of cigarettes, taking one and searching for his lighter. He found it, buried deep in the mess of the front pocket of his bag. He rolled down the window and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before bringing it away from his lips. Light grey smoke floated from his mouth as if it was hesitant to leave, as if it was clinging to him, to his lungs and trachea.

There was a pop song on the radio; it was quiet, not much more than a whisper coming from the speakers. It went something like  _...do is think about the feelings that we hide/ All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign/ Sick and full of pride…  _ Before Keith could actually get the hang of the lyrics, Allura groaned and changed the station.

_ Basket Case,  _ by Green Day, started playing, and the driver twisted the volume button so extremely that the three felt like their eardrums would explode in a mess of blood and screams. Everyone knew the lyrics, and they sang, harmonising out of tune.

_ Sometimes I give myself the creeps _

_ Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me _

_ It all keeps adding up _

_ I think I’m cracking up _

_ Am I just paranoid? _

_ Or am I just stoned _

  
  


The school  _ asked  _ Keith to have a big head.

When he, Allura and Pidge entered the school, it was always the same. The hallway fell completely quiet for a second, and then quiet,  _ quiet  _ chatter started to build up.

“You know Allura? The tall girl? Someone said she used to be a cheerleader, but she was losing flexibility and then blew up at everyone and destroyed half the pom poms…”

“I heard Pidge hacked into NASA once…”

“My brother’s best friend’s neighbour heard that Keith is a drug dealer…”

Rumours. Fucking rumours. They were here and there, all lies - besides Pidge hacking into NASA, they really did that one summer, out of boredom. Most people adored the three of them, looked up to them. They weren’t popular for no reason. They were pretty and smart and charming, they were effective, they were venomous.

They were poison ivy.

Keith heard a couple compliments on his denim jacket, and smiled despite himself. His friends had helped him pick that one last Friday; it was a shiny specimen, precious. He felt epic in it, he didn’t feel like another high schooler who’d end up dropping out of college and living in someone’s basement.

He felt thrilling.

A boy standing by his locker smiled at Keith, and Keith smiled back. His face seemed familiar...

“Who’s that?” Allura asked, and Keith felt her cocking her head to the side.

“I hooked up with him at the party, Saturday. Peter…”

“Percy,” Pidge corrected him, indifferent. They walked while looking down at their phone, one earbud in, one out.

“Oh. I like that name,” he giggled, stupidly.

“You said that Saturday. Were you too drunk to remember?” Pidge frowned, looking up from their phone for a second.

“No, no, I remember. I loved the way he manhandled me,” Keith bit his lower lip and stopped for an instant, lifting his heels and shaking his body. His friends laughed.

“Slut,” Pidge chuckled, and they didn’t mean anything bad. It was jokey, something only allowed between the three of them. If any other person called Keith slut, even more to his face, he would throw a punch so quickly the person would have a broken nose before they finished the word. Pidge could do it. Pidge, Allura, that’s it.

“Thank you,” he widened his smile and curved himself in a semi reverence.

The halls fell quiet again.

That could only mean one thing.

Time rolled in slo mo as Pidge and Allura turned around, and Keith raised his head. There they were, three tall figures,  _ stupidly  _ tall,  _ stupidly  _ tan and  _ stupidly  _ smiling.

Hunk to the left, blushing mildly, hair loose, without his old yellow bandana that showed up every once in awhile. His smile was cute, everyone agreed. He would be pretty famous amongst the ladies, a sweetheart, if he wasn’t taken.

Taken by Lance.  _ Lance.  _ Every time he heard his name or his high-pitched, overly loud voice, Keith wanted to roll his eyes so deep they’d burn deep into his  _ skull.  _ Lance was skinny, tall, gangly, but acted as if he was just right. He was flirty and smiley and jokey, too much, too bright, too cocky. He sprinted fast and could take a punch without falling, and that got him a position in the football team, which equaled popularity and a spot in the trio.

In the centre, Shiro.

Takashi Shirogane.

That boy was spectacular; he was  _ outstanding.  _ The best at everything, classes, parties, people, sports, everything and anything. He was a cliché,  _ all the girls wanted to date him, all the boys wanted to be him.  _ He didn’t usually date, though, he just hooked up with all people. Random people. Any people.

Just like Keith.

Shiro raised his grey eyes, and stopped. His gaze met Keith’s, and amidst that encounter, the shorter boy sighed and turned around.

“Let’s go,” Keith said, almost sighing. “Come on.”

Yes, his cheeks were burning, but that was  _ not  _ the point. Yes, he felt his heart leaping into his throat, but that was  _ not  _ the point.

He couldn’t just  _ be  _ with Shiro, anyway.

He was rumoured a drug dealer, a junkie, a lone wolf, a bad boy. Even though he had top marks, he was the worst of the worst for the teens in that school, so he couldn’t just  _ casually  _ date the captain of the football team. Keith could barely interact with the three of them, since Lance had decided back in freshman year that they were rivals, and for some reason, he kept up with the childish promise.

Shiro did want him back.

He didn’t date because he was too busy hooking up with people, just like Keith. Keith hated that; Keith hated that Shiro treated his lips and his body as something casual, cheap, that people didn’t actually have to deserve; they could just get. With a body like  _ his _ , that sort of attitude was despicable. Keith did the same, but to fire Shiro up. The back of his mind always reassured him that the jealousy was mutual.

They hooked up with people to make each other jealous; they couldn’t drink from the source, so the two of them sadistically enjoyed watching and making the other one burn.

Keith had cried because of Shiro once. He considered that one of his lowest points; crying because of a boy? What was he, a frail little female character from those sappy, corny romantic movies? He was better than that. Just because he wished he could truly have Shiro, just because he wished the whole social status scenario wasn’t so real and bitter, just because he wished reality would go a little easier on him, it didn’t mean he could start crying because of a boy. He’d been through so much worse, and didn’t cry then. What bullshit was he going to cry for now?

  
  


Keith sighed and took a bite out of his ketchup-drenched fry. His leg went back, and forth, the other one going forth, and back, in a swinging rhythm that seemed like a child’s.

His gaze was stuck to the table where too many jocks and cheerleaders huddled up, laughing, talking, eating. They looked like they had fun. Shiro looked like he was having fun, that gorgeous smile on his face, his hair floating loose over his forehead, his laughter filling the air, palpable even from feet away, where Keith sat, watching him, much more intently than he’d like.

“Keith,” Pidge called, voice louder than usual. He glanced over at them, and they sighed, sticking a forkful of salad, drenched in ranch dressing, into their mouth.

“What?” He replied, voice lower than usual, as if it’d got stuck halfway through his throat, as if it rasped, as if it hurt to speak.

“Stop looking at him. I thought you didn’t want the whole school to know you’re head over heels for the guy.”

Allura sucked juice through her straw and it made a loud noise, stopping her friends’ conversation. “Pidge’s got a point.”

“Thank you, Allura,” Pidge smiled, swallowing. “See? You’ve almost finished your fries, instead of staring so lovingly at your boyfriend-”

_ “Not _ ,” Keith spat, gritted teeth.

“-go fool around with someone. That Percy guy; is he over?”

“I think so,” he said, picking up another fry and biting out half of it. “I need to pick another prey. Unfortunate it’s Monday…”

“We all know you hook up with people throughout the whole week, Keith,” Allura laughed, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t act like you only do it at parties - I may, but you don’t.”

Pidge laughed and slid their glasses further up their nose. “Exactly. I think you should go for Spencer.”

“Spencer, yeah!” Allura pointed at the boy, all pretty and slim and tall and glowing. He resembled the moon, pale skin, natural light blonde hair, light blue eyes. He used to play for some team, baseball maybe, or basketball, and now he was a reporter for the school newspaper. He was a little popular, enough so that anyone who’d been in the school for more than a year knew who he was.

“Hasn’t he hooked up with Shiro already?” Keith asked, hesitant. He’s running out of options. He’d already hooked up with people who’d been with Shiro accidentally, never intentionally. He didn’t want a physical reminder in front of him that he wasn’t getting the only person he wanted  _ really bad.  _ How was he supposed to be hard with that?

“Hasn’t everybody?”

Keith looked back at Pidge, and they didn’t even look sorry. They looked up at him, challenging, and he couldn’t face them like this. They were honest, they were right. Everyone had hooked up with one of them, and those who hadn’t hooked up with Shiro - few people, very few - were the ones Keith had already hooked up with. Keith wondered if Shiro had the same issue of not hooking up with people Keith had been with; he doubted it.

“Fine, Spencer,” Keith rolled his eyes, and jumped down from the table, pushing a few fries into his mouth and chomping on them almost aggressively. “Spencer it’ll be.”

“Good,” Allura smiled and walked over to the trashcan, where she threw her empty box of juice. She swung her hips and leaned against the trashcan, that was closer to the exit than their table. “Now, shall we go? I’m tired. This place smells like hormones and anxiety.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Pidge said, voice breathy. “You forgot oil, everything here stinks of oil. Even the salad.”

“Fine, fine,” Keith started his way towards the exit, and stopped halfway, looking back at the two of his friends. “Let’s go.”

  
  


“Is that good?”

Keith raised his hand up to his face and looked closely at his nails, and then set down his hand in the carpet again.

“Yeah! What colour is this again?”

“ _ Bordeaux _ ,” Allura smiled, over exaggerating on the second syllable,  _ deaux.  _ “Or wine red, basically.”

“They’re different, even though they’re similar,” Pidge pointed out, finishing one of the braids they made on Allura’s hair. They were good at it, practice from the time they used to have long hair, too.

“Sure, sure, technicalities,” Keith said, teasing Pidge. They fulminated him, burning gaze, and he innocently smiled. “I wish you’d painted them before the party on Saturday, though. My nails were  _ ruined  _ then.”

“They weren’t that bad,” Allura tried, but Keith laughed so hard he threw his head back.

“Yes they were. The black had all faded away, there were just little dots of nail polish in the centre of each nail. Y’know. You saw them.”

“I did,” she giggled, and looked down. “They looked terrible.”

Conversation flowed, and they ended up going back to the topic of the party they all went to the previous Saturday, two nights before. It was a good party, thrown randomly by one of the football team players just because - oh, who knew? There were parties going on all the time in that school, at least once a month. They were Keith’s favourite opportunities to hook up.

“I really like the Percy guy,” he sighed, dreamily looking back. “Did any of you hook up with someone?”

Keith and Allura knew Pidge didn’t; they didn’t want to. They weren’t really interested in hooking up with people, being ace as they were. Allura, though, did usually hook up with people at parties. But now, she looked down, staring the carpet, and stopped painting Keith’s nails. There was something of guilt to her, and Keith hoped it wasn’t because of what his mind considered.

“Allura?”

She kept quiet, and Pidge noticed. They stopped braiding her hair and looked over her shoulder.

“Allura?” They asked, whispering. They were worried.

“Allura, did you hook up with anyone?” Keith asked, and instead of worried, his voice was filled with some sort of accusation. It wasn’t what he meant, he didn’t really mean to make her feel bad for anything, but the name that the back of his mind screamed couldn’t be the answer. No, no, she wouldn’t have.

“Yes,” she said, voice even lower than a whisper.

Guilt.

Keith was good at identifying emotions, feelings in people’s voices. Years of liars, years of people saying bullshit to him, hiding the truth, saying everything would be alright and he would be adopted soon…

Guilty. Allura was guilty.

“With who?” He smiled, sympathy clearly fake, the corners of his mouth itching to snarl.

“Shiro,” she said, and it was almost inaudible. He was expecting the words, so he understood it anyway.

Exploding, Keith stood up, and luckily Allura pulled her hand away, or nail polish would’ve spread all over his fingers. “He’s mine!” He shouted, and the other two stood up.

“Not really!” Allura argued, defensive.

“What do you mean, not really?”

“He hooks up with a lot of people!”

“So do I!”

“Exactly, you’re not each other’s!”

Pidge stepped back, slowly. They were really the smartest, not getting themselves involved in the situation, in the discussion.

“We do it to make each other jealous! We like each other!”

“Then why don’t you get together?!”

“Different friend groups, social situati-”

“I HOOKED UP WITH HIM! YOU CAN TOO!”

Keith was breathless, and he looked at Allura with wide, surprised eyes. Everyone expected him to blow up, everyone expected hothead Keith to… Well, be a hothead. But Allura was usually controlled. Nonchalant.

“Okay,” Pidge said, finally intervening, stepping between the two. “Okay, okay, let’s get to a conclusion together, quietly, like civilised people, like humans, alright?”

“Alright,” Allura said, voice much lower already, with no hesitation.

“Alright,” Keith said.

They all sat in the carpet again, but now in a little circle, triangle, instead of a line. Allura’s hair was half braided, Keith’s nails were half done, Pidge’s patience was half gone.

“I’m sick of all of this,” Allura muttered, not brave enough to look up and face Keith. She was certain about her words, though. “You should just get together with him already. You keep glancing at each other, you clearly want to do each other, so just fucking  _ do it.  _ Come on.”

“Did you have to hook up with him to prove me that?”

She looked up.

“Yeah. Would you have done it if I hadn’t?”

_ Fair enough  _ was written on both Pidge’s and Keith’s foreheads.

“Did you go up to him or did he go up to you?” Keith asked, quietly. The doubt was murderous - if he’d gone up to her, then… What would he think?

“I went up to him, but I didn’t mean to start making out. We talked a little, and then both leaned in for a kiss. I almost stopped myself, but then I thought this would be alright. I would be finally able to prove my point.”

“Yeah, Allura,” he sighed, and pushed his hair back, looking for some reasoning, “but his best friend hates me-”

“What does Lance matter? The relationship is between you and Shiro, isn’t it? Or is it a threeway?”

Keith breathed in deeply. “Fine.”

Finally, they got somewhere.

“Fine,” he said again, repeating the words more to himself than to anyone else.

“Fine,” Allura smiled, happy with herself.

“Fine,” Pidge groaned, and stood up. “I want some fucking pizza.”

  
  


Keith didn’t wear his denim jacket the next day.

Instead, he went for his trusty leather jacket, matching with a tight red T-shirt and black skinny jeans. He washed his face and stared at himself. He wasn’t at home, he’d slept at Pidge’s - so did Allura. He spent most nights at his friend’s house than at his current ones, because he felt at home there. It was all familiar. It didn’t change. It was one of the few constants in his life.

Pidge was sitting in the kitchen, feet on the table, a PB&J at hands. He slid into a chair next to them, and sighed.

“Where’s Allura?”

“Morning walk,” Pidge answered, words muffled by the mouth full of food.

“Since when does she go on morning walks?”

“I don’t know, maybe she decided she wants to jog now. Maybe she’ll join the track team.”

Keith held back a loud laugh. “Sure, sure.”

Standing up was difficult, and seemed to require a lot more work than usual. He heavily walked towards the fridge, pulled the door open and fished a gallon of orange juice out. None of the Holts liked the industrialised, heavy on the tongue orange juice sold cheaply - not even worth its price, they said -, but they bought it for Keith. He really liked it, drinking straight from the gallon. It was either this or coffee, his perfect breakfast drinks.

Swaying and swirling in the slim space between the table and the counters, he started picking out what he’d need. Eggs, a fork, a plate, a pan… Scrambled eggs and orange juice.

Yum.

The front door slammed open, and Allura huffed in. She wore baby pink jogging pants and a loose, dark grey tee that fitted her nicely. Her hair was straight today, and tied up in a high ponytail that fell all the way down to her shoulderblades. Looking like this, she could be an athlete, a cheerleader, someone who  _ sported.  _ Someone who cared.

“Good morning,” she said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the juice from Keith’s hands, chugging straight from the bottle once again. He nodded in acknowledgement, and she nodded back.

They were in talking terms again.

Pidge’s brother and father had left very early, and their mother was probably asleep. The kids sorted everything out by themselves, letting Mrs. Holt get her deserved hours of sleep, letting her rest. They were all so used to the place, they didn’t need help finding things or making them.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” Allura said, leaning against a counter and resting the gallon on top of it.

“Good choice. You smell,” Pidge sniffed, “from here.”

“Fuck off,” Allura laughed, starting the way to the bathroom. Right before she closed the door, she yelled, making a loud smelling noise. “You too!”

Pidge snorted, and looked up at Keith. “I don’t, do I?”

“You don’t,” he chuckled.

“Thank fuck,” they smiled, stuffing the last bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich into their mouth.

When Allura got back to the kitchen, long, grey wet hair falling in layers over her shoulders, there were some scrambled eggs left in the pan for her. Keith was licking his fork, delighting himself with every little piece, and he just had to nod towards the stove for her to understand.

She sat next to him, in the spot where Pidge was just some minutes before - they’d gone back to their room to put proper school clothes on. Keith and Allura were dressed already, set to leave. Her car waited by the front.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, putting a spoon of eggs in her mouth.

“It’s fine, I’ve told you, it’s fine.”

“I feel bad about it. Sure, I could prove my point, but it was still kind of unfair to you.”

“Sure. It’s fine. I forgive you.”

“Are you going to talk to him today?”

He watched his fork, as if it was going to do something on its own. Sentient.

“I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow... There’s football practice after class tomorrow,” Allura pointed out, looking down, cheekily. “Maybe you could watch it. Show a little commitment.”

“What are you  _ actually  _ suggesting?” He chuckled, and she laughed back.

“Watch the practice. I’m sure he’ll notice. And then, you can catch him in the locker room, talk to him. You’re intimidating enough to kick everyone out and talk to him there.”

“And I’ll be able to catch him shirtless, which is always a pleasure,” he smirked, and Allura laughed out loud.

“What are y’all laughing about?” Pidge walked in, fixing their hair and hoodie.

“Keith’s gonna talk to Shiro tomorrow.”

Pidge’s eyes widened and an incredulous smile took over their face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

They chuckled and jumped towards a chair, pulling it out and sitting in one confusing, fast motion that somehow worked, letting them fall neatly and in a comfortable position.

“I can barely wait.”

“Me neither!” Allura smiled, and she and Pidge high-fived.

“You guys are assholes,” Keith blushed, giggly, and sticked the last forkful of eggs into his mouth.

He was going to do it; it was past time. He should’ve talked to Shiro so long ago, he shouldn’t need his friend to hook up with him to realise that something was wrong.

There was something nervous in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed it. He still had a day and a half to prepare himself, and still, it shouldn’t be too hard. It’d be fine. He’d be fine. They’d be fine.

  
  


Maybe Allura had cast a spell on him. Maybe that spell had always been there, but now it’d been activated. He didn’t know what exactly, but  _ something  _ was going on, something new.

He started noticing.

Keith started noticing how Shiro’s eyes fell on him all the time, provoking and hopeful, a delicious mix of the two. Keith started noticing how his own eyes fell on Shiro, and his heart exploded when their eyes met. Everything that was already engraved to his routine now seemed new, special, something unique that only started because Allura had made him realise that he was more jealous than it’d be convenient, and he liked Shiro more than he wished he did.

Walking down the hall, he saw Spencer and smiled at him.

That made something weigh down in his chest, something like guilt, but not quite.

It was the first time he felt like that.

He wondered if he was acting weird, different. Was he? He felt like he wasn’t. He felt like every other day. He felt fitting in his routine, whatever it was. The only thing changed was his inside, how he  _ felt.  _ How he  _ thought. _

Everything Keith was dominated by Shiro.

He dreamt of being with him that night. He couldn’t exactly recall the details when he woke up, but he knew they were together in his dream. Whether it was something hot, cute, or sad, he couldn’t be sure, but he remembered the feel of Shiro’s skin, and the roughness of his voice rumbling his eardrums. He felt special because of it.

He felt special because of Shiro.

And he felt like that was going to stay.

Waking up, he instantly video called Allura and Pidge. Allura had her hair up in a bun and was changing, apparently fresh from a shower that had been preceded by some jogging. Pidge was in their kitchen, hair a curly mess and face dark and slow with sleep. Their glasses were crooked on their nose, but they didn’t seem to care.

“Whad’ya want,” they said, voice rough, showing they’d just woken up. It wasn’t quite a question, but not quite an affirmative, either. 

“I’m gonna talk to Shiro today, right?”

“Yup,” Allura smiled, analysing something past her phone.

“I don’t want to fuck up my outfit.”

“Okay. Options?”

“I was thinking of wearing my Gorillaz shirt and my denim jacket, but I’m not sure.”

“I think that’s fine,” Pidge said, munching on an apple.

“Allura?”

His friends looked fine, chilled, and Keith couldn’t understand. He felt like his heart was going to explode in a gory chaos from his throat, he felt like he was going to pass out. This didn’t make sense. Sure, he liked Shiro and all, but  _ fuck.  _ He didn’t sign up for all these numbing feelings, he didn’t sign up for being overflowed by all of this, whatever it was.

“I think it’s fine, too. Try it on, let me see.”

Picking up the T-shirt from his unmade bed, Keith slid out of the camera’s reach and hurriedly put the shirt on, and grabbed the jacket to follow up. He was already wearing the usual black skinny jeans - he had too many pairs of the same pants, but no one seemed to care. Most people just wanted to get him out of them.

“Oh, nice,” Allura smirked when he walked back into frame, insecure.

Keith was insecure.

_ What the major FUCK. _

“Really?” He turned around, looking over his shoulder to check his ass, to try and check on his entire self. He was really nervous, he didn’t want to look bad on the day he’d singled out for something so special, so out of his comfort zone.

“For sure,” Pidge grunted, mouth full of something. Keith and Allura laughed, and eventually, Pidge started laughing too. They’d already swallowed the food, thankfully - no one wanted to think of the mess they’d make if they hadn’t.

“Okay,” Keith sighed when he stopped laughing, and felt his hands trembling. He was really,  _ really  _ nervous. It wasn’t like him to be like this. It wasn’t like him to be so genuine, and so full of feelings and emotions of so many things.

“Keith, calm down. It’ll be fine. The guy likes you, what can go wrong?” Allura said, voice soft and gentle.

Keith didn’t know what he feared, but he feared something. So much could go wrong, actually. There were so many possibilities, and that was scary as shit.

“Maybe he changed his mind,” he whispered.

“He didn’t,” she smiled, reassuring.

Pidge watched and ate, quietly.

“But maybe-”

“No ‘maybe’s, Keith. It’ll go fine. Don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Come on, Keith,” Pidge grinned, and he felt good again; this smile of theirs was so warm, it was like they glowed, beaming, and it succeeded in making him feel like things were actually alright. “You don’t think he changed his mind about wanting someone as formidable as  _ you _ , do you?”

  
  


Okay, Shiro was a prodigy.

Keith knew he was really good at football and everything, he’d watched a few of his games a long time ago, without paying too much attention but enough. He wasn’t sure if he had  _ barely  _ watched the games or if Shiro evolved so much in about two years, because holy  _ shit. _

There were professional players worse, so much worse, than him.

As the practice went on, Keith was nothing less than blown away, astonished, dumbfounded,  _ dazed.  _ There was something about how fiercely Shiro played, how ruthlessly, that was eye catching, magnetic, electric. He was so sweet all the time, how could he throw people to the ground and sprint and win so carelessly? He was an enigma.

Keith loved it.

Something inside of him told him Shiro was particularly excelling that day. Shiro knew he was there,  _ thankfully.  _ Shiro was trying to impress him, do the best of his best, untiring, undefeatable, unreachable. No one could quite reach him, he was far too above anyone,  _ but Keith.  _ Keith could reach him just fine.

And he was going to.

After observing the entire process of the team training, he kept his eyes on them as they headed to the locker room. Shiro glanced back at him for a moment, and Keith smirked, somewhat teasing. Both knew something was coming, and Shiro could probably guess what it was.

Keith didn’t feel too nervous now. Going to class and spending time with his friends had really helped him relax, and all throughout the day he’d been reminded, by Shiro’s gaze following him everywhere, that he was wanted. This wasn’t any one-sided bullshit, it was mutual, and  _ very. _

He prepared before going to where he was sure Shiro waited for him, expectancy practically murderous. The almost setting sun hitting his nape through locks of dark hair sort of stung, and it was a reminder that he was alive, and not totally numbed by the mayhem of feelings flooding his chest.

He stood up, and it was like the world shook all around him. Every step was a new earthquake, and he felt like a god, unbelievably powerful, omnipotent.

His ego only blew up more when he stepped into the locker room, and all the boys started getting out, leaving to somewhere, anywhere, he didn’t care. The back of his mind said it wasn’t because of him, but because of Shiro, that they left, but still. Shiro wanted to be alone with him. Takashi Shirogane gave him special treatment, and who wasn’t going to feel  _ really  _ special with that?

Shiro smiled, and leaned back into the wall, waiting for Keith to come closer, three rows of lockers away from him.

Keith walked all the way to him and stood in front of him for a second, daring, teasing, provoking, trying to identify something out of the ordinary in Shiro’s eyes. He didn’t find anything specific, but he managed to realise that Shiro was holding back.  _ From what? _ , he wondered, but he knew. So he gave it to him.

Standing on his tiptoes, Keith’s hands were in the back of Shiro’s neck before his lips reached the other’s. As soon as in contact, Shiro’s hands fell in his lower back, underneath the jacket but over the shirt, that he grasped tightly. The feel of his skin was just like he remembered from the dream, and it was addicting, it was just like a drug - he forgot everything else, and couldn’t get enough.

When they went apart, Keith was thirsty for more. There was something exclusive of Shiro’s, something he didn’t get with anyone he hooked up with. He wanted to be explored by those hands, he wanted to be stripped bare of anything, clothes, thoughts, breath.

“Hey,” Shiro whispered, and Keith wanted that voice echoing in his mind forever.

Okay. Maybe he liked Shiro a teeny bit more than he thought.

“Hey,” he replied, and he felt his face flushed, not of embarrassment, but of emotion. Too much emotion.

“What brings you here?”

There were seven words in Keith’s mind - he’d been going over them since Monday, nonstop. They were specific and fitting specially to this situation, and now he just had to say them. It was too late to stop.

“You’re not making me jealous anymore, Takashi.”


End file.
